Thief
by madame.alexandra
Summary: Han accidentally steals something from Leia. But technically it's his in the first place. And besides, she stole it first. Han/Leia; post-ANH but pre-ESB.
_a/n: idk this is kind of cute._

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 _ **Thief**_

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Han was hunched over the console in the _Millennium_ _Falcon's_ cockpit, his focus narrowed on the controls in front of him. It had been a while since he really cleaned the machinery – he'd noticed some resistance on this last trip. Tongue between his teeth, he alternated between obliterating grime, and glancing up to watch various members of the Alliance scramble around the hanger – they'd just arrived at a new base; their second since Yavin.

He looked at the rag in his hands, spit on it, and then went back to sprucing up.

"Does that actually count as cleaning?" asked a skeptical voice behind him.

He straightened up and swiveled in his chair. Luke was standing in the cockpit entrance, looking half-amused and half-disturbed. Han glanced at the rag and shrugged, tossing it aside.

"You suggestin' I'm not a clean guy?" he retorted.

"I don't think anyone's spit is clean," Luke answered dryly.

"My personal hygiene could win awards," Han said, running his hand through his hair – Luke chose not to comment on the grease smudge that appeared on his temple at the contact. He grinned, and shook his head. "Whaddaya need, kid?"

"I came to warn you to avoid Leia," Luke answered.

Han arched an eyebrow.

"Why?" he asked. "I didn't do anything to her," he said instinctively. "Not today. Yet."

Luke gave him a look – interesting, that Han's automatic reaction was to assume he was the cause of Leia's temper, and defend himself.

"She's not mad at you," Luke placated, though suspiciously - he wasn't actually sure what Leia was mad about, and while it was early, and Han probably truly hadn't had a chance to provoke her anger yet, there was always the possibility that she was just –residually mad at him for something. "But she is in a mood," Luke finished.

Han shrugged.

"She's always in a mood."

"No, she's not," Luke said kindly. "Just because she's always in a mood with _you_ doesn't make her permanently moody."

Han pointed to himself, feigning innocence, and then shrugged again.

"Why'd you come to warn me?" he asked.

"Because," Luke said, "it's about that time of day when you get bored and go looking for her."

Han glared at him.

"I don't do that," he said.

Luke blinked at him pointedly. Han scowled, and turned in the captain's chair, glancing out the viewport thoughtfully. The kid was kind of right. If Han was up early, he ran out of things to do about two hours after breakfast and did tend to, ah, go annoy her royal highness. Han turned back sharply and stood up, grabbing the rag and tucking it into his back pocket.

"Where is she?" he asked.

"She's in her bunk, terrorizing…the…place," Luke answered, and then trailed off, his eyes narrowing. " _Why_?" he demanded.

"Terrorizing?" Han repeated. He frowned, and then started to nudge past Luke. "'Cause I'm gonna go see what's wrong," he answered.

"You – you're – " Luke stutters, exasperated. "I warn you to avoid her, and you want to go _looking_ for her?"

"Hey, kid, I told you; whatever's wrong with her, I didn't do it," he said, holding up his hands carelessly. "I got nothin' to be afraid of."

Luke stared at him with wide eyes.

"Yes, you do! Your presence antagonizes her – you always push her buttons; I came to save you some trouble!" Luke whined.

Han grinned, took his shoulders, and moved Luke out of the way.

"I cheer her up as often as I piss her off," he bragged smugly, flashing a charming smile as he went down the hall.

He felt Luke glaring at him, so over his shoulder, he called: "Feel free to clean that console, if you've got your own ideas about how it's done!"

Smirking, he strolled down the ramp and set off in the direction of the enlisted bunks – Leia always insisted on being housed with the rank and file instead of the command. Since she and Luke had gone with him on the _Falcon_ , he'd carried her luggage to her room last night when they'd all touched down planet side – if you could call it luggage; she only had one bag. For a Princess, she traveled surprisingly light. She'd kicked him out of her room and slammed the door so fast that he was a little uncertain of which one was hers, but it became clear when he walked through the hallways – her door was open, and she was rummaging through a tangled pile of clothes on her bed.

Han stood in the doorway for a moment, watching her. When she straightened up and put her hands on her hips, her shoulders falling, he cleared his throat.

She jumped.

"What's the matter with you?" he asked, as she said:

"Han – I've told you not to sneak up on me."

He folded his arms and leaned against the wall.

"I cleared my throat," he pointed out.

"Well, stomp loudly down the hall from now on," she retorted sarcastically.

She compressed her lips and turned back around, shaking her head.

"What do you want?" she asked, and then rapidly: "Go away; I'm not in the mood for you," she muttered.

It nearly killed him to suppress every suggesting response that immediately flew to the front of his mind, but he did it, and stared at her silently for a beat instead.

"Yeah, I heard," he answered. "Luke came to warn me that you were on some kind of rampage in case I got it in my head to try and talk to you today."

"I see you took his advice to heart," Leia said dryly.

In frustration, she threw some things against the wall and whirled around, sitting down heavily on the edge of the military style bunk. She gripped the edges of the mattress and stared down at her knees. He looked curiously at the top of her head for a minute, and then she looked up sharply.

"Did I leave anything on the _Falcon_?" she asked shortly.

He frowned, and shook his head.

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"What's gotten into you, Your Highness?" Han asked. "You lose something?"

She looked away from him, and he noticed that all of her belongings were strewn about – that must be what Luke had meant by _terrorizing_. He'd gotten all her stuff, though – both hers and Luke's – off the Falcon last night, and since she was female, he'd have noticed if anything of hers was left behind.

Leia sighed heavily, her frustration evident, and then stood up, twisting her hands. She nodded, and folded her arms, looking around.

"I've looked through everything _twice_ ," she lamented tensely.

Han looked around. He came forward and surveyed the mess of things, frowning.

"Something from Alderaan?" he asked gently.

"No," she murmured, surprisingly. "I don't know where it's from, I've just it since," she trailed off, and shook her head, her jaw tightening. "I don't know when I got it, but it's been around," she dropped off again.

"You're not makin' much sense, Your Worship," Han said, rolling his eyes. "What is _it_?"

She seemed reluctant to tell him, and avoided his eyes. After a few minutes of him staring at her with unabashed expectance and her silently debating with herself, she sighed, grit her teeth, and answered.

"It's a blanket," she confessed in a small voice.

She motioned with her hands, liked she was drawing a cape around her shoulders.

"It's not a baby blanket," she said, her eyes on his shoulder, "it's – it's just my favorite blanket, okay?"

Her cheeks flushed, and after a moment, she chanced meeting his eyes. She thought he'd make fun of her for needing something like that, but he didn't say anything. He was just looking at her kind of quizzically, and then he nodded.

"What does it look like?"

Leia sighed.

"It's – I don't know the design, it's some sort of planetary design. It's soft and green. The colours are – earthy," she described. "It smells really good. I had it on the _Falcon_ – "

She broke off abruptly when he took a step back, held up his hand, and strolled out of the room. Leia stared after him, her lips parted, taken aback. Had he just…lost interest? She took a step back, feeling surprisingly abandoned - and she hadn't even asked for his help! She sat down on the edge of her bunk, on the verge of converting her shock into irritated anger, when he strolled casually back into the room with his hands full.

She stood up, glaring at him.

"You could find a better way to end a conversation, you know," she started in immediately.

He ignored her, and unfurled the bundle in his hands, shaking out a soft – _earthy green blanket_! She quieted, and stepped forward, taking it in her hands and curling her fists into it. The relief she felt was instantaneous – she had a strange attachment to the blanket, and she'd been so exhausted last night she hadn't noticed it was missing until she woke up _freezing_ from the throes of a nightmare.

"You _did_ have it," she breathed. She ran her hands over it and then glared up at him through her lashes. "You stole my blanket," she growled, starting to tug it away.

He tightened his grip.

"Yeah, I had it," he answered slowly, giving her a pointed look. "I didn't _steal_ it. 'Cause it's _mine_."

Leia's mouth fell open.

"I beg your – it is _not_!" she protested, narrowing her eyes.

"I've been lookin' for this damn thing for months, Princess!" Han retorted.

When she'd said she was missing a blanket, his thoughts had immediately gone to this old thing – mainly because it had mysteriously reappeared in the crew quarters, wedged between the wall and the bed, last night. He'd seen it when he was getting Leia's things for her. It was precisely _because_ it was his that he'd not taken it to her bunk with her things.

"It _can't_ be yours; I've had it since – since," she faltered.

"Yavin?" he guessed, lifting a brow.

She didn't say anything. Her grip loosened, and she looked down at the blanket – he was right; she'd had it since Yavin. It wasn't Alderaanian – and when she'd gotten off the Death Star, she'd only had the clothes on her back, so she'd obviously acquired it afterwards. She had just assumed – they gave it to her in the medical bay.

Han watched her expression as she thought about it, and slackened his grip on the blanket, too. He hadn't given it to her, but he probably had thrown it over her after the rescue, because she'd been shaking in that thin white dress. He just hadn't realized she'd taken it with her – and he hadn't noticed it was missing until a few weeks later.

He cleared his throat.

"This is from Kashyyyk," he said gruffly. "It's this unique kind of silk wool native to the planet. Good for keeping warm in space."

Leia was still quiet for a moment.

"I know," she said, drawing her hands back.

"You've had this the whole time?" Han asked, trying to catch her eye.

Leia folded her arms across herself protectively, noncommittal. She didn't really want to confess to having religiously slept with something off of Han Solo's bed for the past few months. It had always made her feel protected, though, and now she could see that was probably because she subconsciously connected it with being safely away from Vader.

"I didn't know it was yours," she said finally.

He smirked at her.

" _You're_ the thief," he teased, feigning a hurt look. "You accuse me of stealing my own blanket – "

"I didn't steal it on purpose!" Leia interrupted tensely. "There was so much going on when we landed – "

"You said it was your _favorite_ blanket – "

"—and I was disoriented; I don't remember much from Yavin, anyway – "

"You said it smelled good – it smells like _me_ , Princess – it's like you've been sleeping with _me_ \- "

"Han," she cut him off, a plea creeping into her voice. He fell silent, and she fixed her eyes on his, a persistent blush darkening her face.

He frowned a little.

"I saw it last night when I was getting your stuff," he said. "I swore I'd already looked in that bunk," he told her. "Chewie's wife gave this to me."

Leia bit her lip, and nodded, pushing her hand out. She put her palm on the blanket, and pushed it towards him.

"I'm sorry," she said in a quiet voice. "I didn't realize it was yours. I wouldn't take something that means something to you."

She sounded sincere, and withdrawn. He watched her brow crease as she looked down, and he wrapped it up, pulling it towards him – it did mean something to him. Malla had given it to him the first time Chewbacca introduced them; Han had still been feeling guilty about Chewbacca's life debt, considering it took him away from his family, and the blanket was a symbol of Malla's understanding. They weren't easy to make; time and care went into each one.

Han swallowed, and took a step back. He started to leave, and then stopped, turning back to her.

"Does it mean something to you?" he asked slowly.

She looked at him warily, her lips compressed tightly, her expression questioning. He stepped up to her again, holding the bundle out and shaking it a little.

"Does it?" he repeated.

She tried to appear nonchalant.

"It's not a trick question, Princess," he said, slightly irritated. "'M not angling for you to tell me you want to sleep with me."

She flushed again, and wrapped her arms around herself tightly, looking up at him.

"I sleep better with it," she said grudgingly. She shrugged. "It isn't mine, Han; don't worry about it."

He looked at her intently, and then he loosened up the blanket, holding it out between them.

"Yeah, it is," he corrected heavily. "Here, Leia. Take it."

She took a tiny step back, and shook her head.

"I can't do that, Han," she said edgily.

He rolled his eyes. Without a word, he shook it out, took it by the edges, and swirled it around her shoulders, draping it over her cozily and giving her a pointed look.

"Keep it," he said gruffly. "I sleep fine without it."

Without thinking, she took the edges in her hands, pulling it closer. She loved it so much – even finding out that it was his, that it came off that pathetic old ship, she still loved it – and it still smelled good, as much as she didn't want to think about _that_.

She licked her lips, and studied the blanket for a moment.

"Why?" she asked uncertainly – why would he give her something that was obviously important to him? She never would have taken it off the ship if she'd been halfway aware of her surroundings back on Yavin – if she hadn't been running on painkillers and adrenaline and sheer vengeful rage.

Han looked around the room, swallowing hard – because he'd just noticed that all of her things, all of these possessions, were all military issue; none of it was personal. She'd lost her family, her people, her planet, and any sentimental trinket that might have reminded her of them; and in grief, the comfort of possessions could be a powerful thing – but she had nothing.

She didn't travel lightly because she was frugal; she traveled lightly because she had _nothing_ to take with her.

It made him feel subdued.

He shrugged, trying to remain cavalier for her sake.

"I'm a generous man," he drawled, and then, after a pause, "maybe I like the idea of you sleeping under it."

The suggestive tone that would usually have underlined a comment like that was gone; his words had an affectionate, almost romantic hint to them that took him by surprise – but if she noticed, she didn't say anything; she just smiled a little.

"Thank you, Han," she said gratefully.

He gave her a small, silent salute with two fingers, and glanced around the room one more time before he spun on his heel and left her to herself. Out in the hall, he stopped in his tracks and rubbed his jaw tensely; Han wasn't worried that Chewbacca would be angry about this – the Wookiee cared for Princess Leia – he was worried that he'd just inadvertently admitted to himself that he was hanging around for reasons that weren't merely altruistic – after all, that blanket meant a lot to him, and he was suddenly acutely aware there was no one else he'd have given it to.

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 _honestly i don't really like how this turned out, but you win some you lose some. also, this isn't edited very well; i'll fix it later if it's super noticeable._

 _-alexandra_  
 _story #293_


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